A Fragile Hope
by trekkiexb5
Summary: Hope flies even in the darkest times of one's life. Even through the pain and shattering of the soul. Keith must find this allusive bird before succumbing to the darkness, before he forgets who he is.


**A Fragile Hope**

**By Trekkiexb5**

Category: Adventure, Drama, Lots of Angst, Romance (eventually, really! KxA)

Rating: R for now for violence and torture. That may change; I'll let you know.

NOT FOR THE WEAK OF HEART!

Posting: KAEX please, it will be also on Blissful Ignorance, and

Summery: Hope flies even in the darkest times of one's life. Even through the pain and shattering of the soul. Keith must find this allusive bird before succumbing to the darkness, before he forgets who he is.

But others have hope, and they will use him to achieve their dreams. Or their desires.

Dedication: The people of KAEX, who kept me entertained of fan fiction of my favorite cheesy show of the '80s. Yes, it was cheese, but of the best kind. To creators and writers of Devil's Due, who are giving us the story that show should have been. To my best friends, Stephanie and Kim, who loved the show as much as I.

AUTHOR'S RANT: I am writing this story because the beginning was interfering with the end of my Gundam Wing story ("Sea of Stars" on Please read) I do not have this story mapped out, when I do, I'll let everyone know. However, I'm sure it will be long and epic in size.

I have problems writing small stories.

I have loved Voltron since I saw it on TV in the eighties. Because of that show, I ended up to be a very bad babysitter to my sister, but always came home promptly from school. I remember that they had the weird eyes like my first favorite show, Star Blazers.

Today, I can barely watch the stuff without gagging. But I remember almost every episode, including the "Ship" Voltron and still memorized all the characters on the show to this day.

It's a love-hate relationship.

Anyways, this story was dragged up and developed over the years of silly writings before there was fan fiction. Hell, before there was an Internet! There is some resemblance to the comic book, but this is not intentional. I was dreaming this stuff for fifteen years. It has gotten more and more complex and violent over the years. I don't think I've ever finished it in my mind, but I will try on paper.

The story is DARK. Reader beware.

CHAPTER 1:

An Exchange of Oaths

He could not remember how long he had been captured.

The trap was set for...her. Her lion.

Not his.

But he fell into it.

Even if he knew, he would not have changed his actions.

And now he was...**HIS**. **HIS** toy, **HIS** plaything...

And the time passed since the capture, time passed so, oh so slowly, but so long.

And the pain was his constant companion, and it seemed to last forever.

Then...

He was dragged out from where he was to a room, a large room his instincts told him, and one that was not on a ship. His eyes, swollen almost shut from the constant beatings, comprehended the dim darkness around him.

Dizzy and confused, he laid upon the cold floor where he was unceremoniously dragged and dropped. He coughed, felling the ever tightening of his chest. His naked body, covering dried feces and blood, convulsed with each gasping breath.

He would be dead soon.

He felt it in every ragged breath he took. He would die from the fevers and infection spreading through his damaged body.

Slowly, painfully

Or he would die by **HIS** hand.

He shivered uncontrollably. The mere thought of **HIM **and the unspeakable tortures that **HE** did to himself...

The pain... the agony...a slower and torturous death.

But through it all, **HE** never asked questions, he never gave anything away.

With what little steel left in him, he stopped the horrible thoughts and deeds that were cascading through his mind. It left him gasping for air and wishing for his own death. He was forgetting.

Footsteps, muffled at first, then louder and coming from all directions as they approached him. The stopped surrounding him and so close that if he had the strength, he could touch them.

There was much rustling of cloth, robes, his mind filled in. Necessary for the cold air that filled the vastness. Then voices, musical and alien, filled the room. Vicious comments in an unknown tongue. About him. He heard his name, something he almost forgot in the timeless agony. But it was his, and he knew it down to the depths of his shattered soul.

Keith...

Captain...

The words alone gave him strength, for they let him remember the place he was before, and the peace.

And her.

The voices volume increased, and words more harsh. It really didn't matter. Whoever won, the prize was going to die very soon, anyways.

Suddenly his head was jerked up, being pulled by his matted hair. The unknown hand grabbed his hands by the chains and tugged fiercely, scraping harshly over the multitude of past injuries. The unseen hands pulled him up to stand on his shackled feet and trembling legs.

More yelling, more shouting.

Then...

The cuffs were removed. A blade was placed in his hand. A strange blade.

Hands on his shoulders, a whisper in his ear. A strange accented voice-speaking Common. "What would you do with this blade, young captain?"

He gripped the blade in his hand. The urge to thrust the blade into him abdomen was overwhelming. However, there was one thing he wanted to do before he died. He swung around listening, trying to see with his damaged eyes, using all his senses to locate **HIM**.

The villain.

The man who took away his humanity.

And the villain's son. Long white hair caught his eye.

"Answer me **_Tante_**,"

With a voice that was harsh and cracked from a thousand screams, he answered." I would kill him."

"Who, Captain Keith Anderson?"

"Before I am...released, I...will...kill...Zarcon," The last word spit out forcefully, the he fainted, collapsing at the voice's feet. The sword, slipping from the captain's hands, landed on the floor next the unmoving body, clattering loudly in the room.

Whispers could be heard in the chamber, but the man who asked the questions said nothing. He knelt next to Keith, checking for a pulse. Satisfied when he found one, he picked up the sword. "Don't worry, young man," He whispered, ruffling Keith's filthy locks.

"I will give you that oath and more,"

The Emperor of the Drule Empire stood up. "And so, so much more."

Tante will be explained later. Trust me!

Please R&R.


End file.
